Comatose
by Cassodembreankia
Summary: Heather is a Whovian fangirl. She's always known that. So when she wakes up from a dream and finds herself in the "Whoniverse", she's a little confused. (No non-canon pairings) (I'm sorry, this is an AWFUL summary! I promise the story is better!)
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This is based off someone's Facebook post that said (word-for-word) "Imagine one day you wake up and find out that you were in a coma and you made up a whole life for yourself while you were sleeping. And your fandom was the reality of your world, and the life you live now was fake all along. And you wake up, and they're all huddled around you and they say, 'Welcome back!' and 'We were so worried!' and you feel so happy because it wasn't a dream and they're all real." So, I decided to make a fic where that happened. And I (obviously) picked Doctor Who. My very favorite TV show. I probably won't have a regular update schedule for this, because school is starting to get hectic, but I'll post when I have something worthy of reading. Enjoy! **

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The amount of snow falling outside made the atmosphere a bizarre blend of white and black. Heather was asleep on the couch, Doctor Who playing on Netflix on the TV ten feet away. She had her "exploding TARDIS" blanket spread over her. A gift from her best friend for her birthday. Her hand was lightly resting on top of her Sonic Screwdriver toy—the Tenth Doctor's.

Winter in Utah was cold, but on the same vein, the best time for watching TV. Sherlock, Doctor Who, Merlin, Once Upon a Time, Arrow, Heroes, Mythbusters, they were Heather's favorite shows for winter time.

Heather's big brother, Jack, slipped into the room where she was sleeping and readjusted her blanket so it covered her gooseflesh-covered shoulders. "Sleep well, little Time Lord," he whispered.

As soon as he left she sat up. Bleary-eyed and a bit dazed, her vision focused in time for the Doctor to kiss Rose and take the Time Vortex from her—to save her life. As always when she hit that part, her fangirl feels started to get ripped to shreds and she started to get teary. She watched as Jack Harkness went running back to go see the TARDIS just as it disappeared. She cried and cried for the rest of the episode, but laughed when David Tennant came on as the new Doctor. She had nothing against Christopher Eccleston and Matt Smith, but she loved David Tennant as the Doctor. Something about him just made her feel like she knew him better. Matt Smith's Eleven had amazing speeches (Rings of Akhaten anyone?), but the darkness Ten had, while still being jovial, reminded her of herself. She connected with Ten the best.

When the Christmas Invasion came on, she snickered at Ten's "Merry Christmas!" Jack came back in and gave his little sister a wary glance. "You okay Time Lord?" he asked.

"I'm a girl!" she snapped indignantly. "I'm a Time _Lady!"_ Jack rolled his eyes and tickled her face with the end of her braid. She swatted at him, trying to get him away like she would with an annoying fly. Her brother laughed and attempted to get her Sonic Screwdriver out from behind her. She walloped him over the head with a pillow. "No you don't, you evil Dalek you!" she exclaimed. Her brother snorted while she cackled and whacked him again and again.

"Okay, okay!" he conceded. "Have fun watching Doctor Who. Dad and I are going to Wal-Mart."

"Okay. Bye!" she said, shoving him off her couch.

"Love you!" he said teasingly.

"Love you too!" Heather turned her attention back to the TV just as the crazy Christmas tree attacked and Ten woke up. She felt like "sonicing" the crazy tree too, but she was sixteen, she should display a little more decorum. At least, her parents would think so.

* * *

When her brother and father came back, Jack decided to be funny. "Hey Heather! Think fast!" he called, throwing the new screwdriver at her. She turned, but didn't quite manage to catch the screwdriver. The heavy handle—coupled with the force of Jack's throw—smashed into her temple. She fell off the couch, her face screwed up in pain. Her eyes closed as her hand shot to the damage site. Spots began swimming before her dark vision as blood dripped onto her fingers.

Everything was getting foggy. She heard everything as though through cotton. She could feel her mind slipping. She couldn't think clearly.

Before she could even open her eyes again, everything went black.

* * *

She didn't know how much later, but eventually, her eyes opened again. For some reason, she felt a great swell of relief when she saw the walls that obviously weren't from her house—certainly not her living room. A crash of pain was in her head, but she felt relieved and… safe. That was it. Safe. Why did she feel safe? She was somewhere unfamiliar! She shouldn't feel _safe_!

Somewhere off to her right, she heard a shocked gasp. She turned, looking directly into pinstriped suit pants.

"Heather?" a concerned voice asked.

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**End Note: Please tell me what you thought of it! I hope it's worth reading!**

**Cass**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Hi! Hoped you liked the first chapter! This one is a little shorter because I couldn't decide how to end it, sorry! I was really bored today, and so even though I shouldn't be updating this right now, I think it's worthy to read. I hope you think so too! Thanks to the three people who have "Followed" it. You guys are awesome!**

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Heather's eyes traveled up the length of the brown, blue-striped, suit—and they had a long way to go. The man was _tall_. Skinny, clad in brown with a blue-and-brown tie. The face she saw, dark eyes, great hair, nice cheekbones, pale skin, was familiar. She felt her face smile, but she wasn't sure why. It was like trying to remember a dream when you've only just woken up. You just can't quite process it. Her voice was saying "Hey Doctor!" before her mind could get control over what she was doing. Her instincts told her this guy was friendly.

The man knelt and helped her to her feet. He was a good deal taller than her—he could rest his chin on the crown of her head. Gently he wrapped her up in a huge hug. Her ear was pressed against his chest. She could hear a series of four beats on a pattern. _Two hearts,_ her instincts whispered. "Oh Heather, I missed you," he whispered into her thick brown hair. She wanted to say she missed him too, but she couldn't get her mind around what was going on.

"Did I go someplace?" she asked, letting instinct take over.

"Very nearly. You've been unconscious for three weeks. I've been just waiting for you to come back 'round," the man replied. He drew back, holding her shoulders at arm's length. He narrowed his brown eyes curiously. "Don't hit me, I'm just going to help you." He put his hands on her face, closing his eyes and requesting she do the same.

A sudden onslaught of memories dumped into her brain. She practically fell over with shock. She remembered Jack, her parents, her life, watching Doctor Who on a day-to-day basis when she had nothing else better to do. But with those memories came others.

Her parents, her life, running away with a tall, mysterious man because he promised respite from her cabin fever. She opened her eyes and stared at him. The former recollections felt more real, whilst the latter simply sounded ludicrous.

Even so, a feeling of immense happiness returned to her as she got her life back into her mind. "How did you know I couldn't remember anything?"

"I could see it in your eyes," the Doctor replied. "You just looked so… blank. You'd never looked so confused in the entire time I've known you." Heather nodded slightly. The Doctor smirked as she kept going over the memories in her head.

_So… Rose, Donna, Martha, Amy, Clara, Christopher Eccleston, Matt Smith, and David Tennant aren't real?_ Heather thought distractedly. The Doctor had started blabbering about going somewhere epic and fantastic, or setting the controls to random. Heather wasn't listening. She was just looking around the room, trying to remember if the Doctor had ever talked about other people he'd travelled with. She couldn't quite bring anything to mind. "Doctor?" she interrupted his ramblings. He turned to look at her expectantly. "Does the name… _Rose…_ mean anything to you?"

The Doctor's face was completely blank for several long moments. Heather watched him carefully, searching for signs of recognition. "_'Rose'_ did you say?" he inquired for clarification. Heather nodded, wondering if Rose was real or if she'd made up the character when she was unconscious. The Doctor looked very thoughtful, like he was choosing his words very carefully before he spoke.

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**End Note: So... do you think the Doctor should remember Rose? I honestly have no idea, just being real here. :-)**

**Cass**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: This chapter is longer than the last one to make up for the previous one's shortness. And I finally decided on whether or not he should remember Rose or not. So, I hope you enjoy it!**

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"Rose… Rose… Rose…" the Doctor murmured quietly, staring intently at the column that rose to the ceiling that was pulsing—showing the engine was running, taking them somewhere new. Heather sat on the bouncy chair next to the main central console and watched him with a sarcastic, skeptical expression. Two of her fingers played idly with a strand of flyaway hair. She examined the Doctor through her ring of black eyelashes.

They looked remarkably alike, Heather and the Doctor. Same thick brown hair that did whatever it wanted unless it was forcibly tamed, same dark brown eyes, same smattering of freckles on their noses (but in a different pattern), same pale skin, same cheeky smirk, same mischievous gleam in the corners of their eyes. They differed in height (he was a whole foot taller than her 5'1"), nose (hers more concave while his was more convex), and she _definitely_ didn't have sideburns. Nor did she particularly want them. They looked much better on the Doctor than they ever would on her. Mostly because she was a _girl_.

"I… I can't say I _do_ know the name Rose," he finally said. Heather peered closely at his face, trying to discern if he was lying. He gave her a confused glance. "I don't," he insisted.

"Are you _absolutely sure?"_ Heather pressed. "I don't know… maybe… a blonde in a Union Jack T-shirt?" She bit her lip, watching him. "Brown eyes?"

"Who are you talking about?" the Doctor demanded.

"Look, while I was in the coma, I had a dream. In the dream, I loved this TV show called Doctor Who. It featured you. The one who was _you_ you was named David Tennant—he was actually Scottish and I now think he probably doesn't exist. There were two others _I_ knew, since I didn't know the older ones so well. Nine and Eleven. You were Ten. Doctor number ten. You had a companion named Rose. She had blonde hair and brown eyes," Heather explained. "Played by a singer named Billie Piper. In the dream, the show had been running for fifty years—and the anniversary special was absolutely brilliant." The more she spoke, the more confused and fascinated the Doctor's expression became. "You and Rose were in love," she added quickly before her rational thoughts could stop herself. The Doctor visibly recoiled and turned his gaze to look at her sharply.

"What?!" he exclaimed. Heather moved to get up, caught her toe on the central console, and went sprawling over the grated floor, her hair flinging out in a brunette circle around her scalp. The Doctor grabbed her arms and helped her to her feet.

"It was just a dream. It was just a TV show," she reassured him. "_But_… if you're _curious_… she lived on the Powell Estate in London." A mischievous smirk lit up her face as she combed through her hair with her fingers. The Doctor gave her a chastising glance, but she shot him a cheeky wink. He rolled his eyes and turned his back on her. He flipped a switch, twisted a knob, and pulled a lever. "Where we going?" Her eyebrows rose curiously.

"I'm taking you home."

"_What for?_" she asked. "Please tell me it's not because I teased you. You took my teasing very well back before the coma!"

"I promised your mother I would take care of you. The coma has revealed that I can't."

"No! I don't want to go home! You _can_ keep your promise to my mother! The coma was my own stupid fault! Please don't make me go home! Not after what I've seen!" Heather protested, a note of fear lacing her tone. "I would get so sick of Earth and staying on one planet in one time period. I'm not suggesting that I travel with you for the rest of my _life_, I'm just asking to stay until the restlessness goes away. Please don't make me go back _now_!"

The Doctor looked slightly alarmed at her frightened face. He took her into his arms, resting his chin on the crown of her head. For being so amazingly skinny, he was strong. She was shaking her head into his chest, still pleading to not be taken home. Finally the Doctor sighed. "Fine! Fine! I won't take you home!" he murmured into her scalp. He felt her relax.

"Thank you! Thank you Doctor! Thank you so much!" she exclaimed, pulling her face away from his tie so fast she almost gave him whiplash. Her arms wrapped around his slim frame and gave him a crushing hug. He made a face of annoyance. "I'm going to go shower, change, and do my hair. By the time I'm done, can we go somewhere? Please?" Her eyes, usually so brooding, were alight with naïve excitement. The Doctor grinned and nodded.

"Hurry then!" he said jovially. Heather beamed and took off. The Doctor sat on the bouncy chair she had vacated and looked at the console thoughtfully. Part of him wanted to trick her and take her home, but the other part of him really didn't want to be alone again. She'd only been with him for a couple months. Most people stuck 'round for a year.

Bored, and remembering something she'd mentioned about the non-existent David Tennant fellow, he propped his feet up on the console and began talking to the TARDIS with a Scottish accent. He could feel it laughing at him somewhere in the back of his mind. "Oi! That's not very nice!" he objected.

The TARDIS wheezed, almost sounding amused. "Oh so what that I protested to your laughing at me in a Scottish accent?!" he demanded.

He wasn't entirely sure how long he argued with his faithful time machine about the Scottish accent. Only that Heather walked in, her wet hair braided, in the middle of it. She glanced around the main room curiously. "Who… who are… who are you talking to?" she asked carefully, like she was afraid he'd lost his mind.

He whirled around. "The TARDIS," he said quickly. "She's alive you know." Heather nodded slowly. She knew that.

"What's with the Scottish accent?"

"It's your fault," he insisted quickly. "You told me that guy who played me in your dream was a Scotsman. So I decided to try it out." Heather rubbed her nose and decided not to say anything. She put her foot up on the side of the console and tied the laces on her shoe. Usually she wandered the TARDIS barefoot, but recently—before the coma—she'd stepped on a Lego in the Doctor's storage room, and she'd been wearing shoes around ever since. She didn't like stepping on Legos. "So… where next?"

"I was rather hoping you'd tell me," Heather said.

"How about… Barcelona—the planet?"

"Do… do they… do they have… do they have dogs with no noses?"

"Yup," the Doctor answered, popping the _p._

"In that case, absolutely," Heather decided.

* * *

**End Note: I know a lot of people like to do adventures on Barcelona, but I want to do one too. And with any luck it will be not cliche. Please leave me a review, follow, favorite, whatever, if you enjoyed it! It would totally make my whole day!**

**Cass**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: This is going to be slightly longer A/N because I must address something.**

**Hey guys, so, I'm pretty sure people have been annoyed with Heather (not that they've voiced it) because she's an OC, and on top of that she's an OFC (Original Female Character). But, I'm trying my best to not make her there just to be in love with the Doctor. SHE'S NOT IN LOVE WITH HIM! Sure she could be considered a self-insert (and I KNOW they're looked down upon in the FanFiction world because they're horrendously overused), but even though I'm completely in love with Ten myself, I wanted to be a little more true to Classic Who, where the companions were only there for the travelling. And even though I loved Rose and love Clara dearly, they are the exceptions, not the rule (I didn't like Martha that much, I'm sorry). Heather is just his friend. In fact, in this chapter she mentions that she thinks he's more like a crazy uncle. I love you guys who have followed/favorited this, feel free to review! Heather's there for the fun, not the love!**

* * *

The TARDIS landed with an extremely hard bump. Heather fell into the Doctor's side. He caught her and kept her from crashing to the grated floor. "Sorry about that," he apologized. Heather didn't reply. She knew he wasn't talking to her—he always apologized to the TARDIS when they had a particularly rough landing. "Right. Let's go!" He grabbed his long brown coat from the cross bars of one of the coral-like structures and stood near the door. Heather picked up her own coat and shrugged into it. The gleam of adventure sparkled in her eyes. The Doctor held out his arm. She took it and together they strode out the TARDIS doors.

The triple Barcelonan suns were small, but their combined light and heat sustained the planet. Stray dogs—nose-less and all—wandered around their feet. They had long ears—like a basset hound. "This place is gorgeous!" Heather exclaimed. They had landed near a beach. The sea was a violent shade of violet—not blue. The sand was glittering white. The sky was baby blue, streaked with purple. The air was warm enough that the two travellers removed their coats. "Holy, holy, this is amazing."

"I thought you'd like it here," the Doctor remarked. His small companion's smile outshone all three of the suns that bathed them with golden light.

They removed their shoes and walked along the sand for a while, letting the waves wash over their feet. It was all Heather could do not to shriek for joy and go pelting down the shore, her hair flying behind her. The Doctor could tell. He was constantly glancing down at her much shorter form, beaming and tugging on her arm to make sure she didn't go and make a fool of herself. She'd enjoy it in the moment, but later she'd feel more like perishing from belated embarrassment. So, sometimes, she needed a little bit of restraining—the funny type the Doctor was more than happy to provide.

"Is three suns even possible?" Heather asked after a while. "I mean, I know two suns is—in Doctor Who, your planet Gallifrey has two suns, and I've actually seen binary stars like Sirius with the Hubble images—but I've never heard of three."

"Well, maybe your science classes need to update a little more often. Three suns is tricky, but with just the right gravity and orbit, it's completely possible. Just like having a planet orbiting a black hole," the Doctor replied. Heather thought of _The Impossible Planet_. "Like the entire Milky Way galaxy is in orbit around a massive black hole."

"Right. That's cool." Heather nodded.

Someone screamed behind them.

On instinct, the Doctor gathered her to him and pulled them both out of the way. Right as a large, bluish creature thundered past. "Are you alright?" the Doctor demanded, looking Heather right in the eye. She nodded again.

"Fine. Fine. Just… shocked." She wanted to collapse right into the Doctor's strong but skinny chest and just collapse. She was more scared than she was willing to admit, but she had to be brave. For the Doctor's sake. He was brave for the sake of being brave. To be fair, Heather always considered bravery to be the nicest word for stupidity, and courage was something else, but the Doctor would go headlong into dangerous situations so that innocent people didn't always have to die. Of course, sometimes they died anyway, but it wasn't always the Doctor's fault.

"Want to go back to the TARDIS?"

"NO!" Heather protested. The Doctor laughed and took her hand, pulling her down an alleyway.

"Look at that! Look at all these little shops! I love it when they have little shops!" the Doctor exclaimed. Heather snorted, remembering the different times David Tennant's Doctor talked about places having little shops. Like the hospital on New Earth, or the Library, or the hospital. "Ooh! And look over there! A whole basket full of nose-less dogs!"

Heather wrapped her arm around the Doctor's waist, laughing. The Doctor wrapped his longer arm around her shoulders. They both sort of giggled as they passed a couple of aliens kissing. Heather pretended to wretch. The Doctor laughed as he shoved his other hand into the pocket of his long coat.

"I haven't had this much fun in—"

"Several weeks, since you fell into the coma," the Doctor interrupted darkly.

"Oh come on! You're the optimist! The believer of the impossible! I'm the pessimist!" Heather retorted. The Doctor smirked.

"I know. I just wanted to see what you'd do," he joked. Heather turned her head up to see the much taller Doctor better. He had some great hair. Sticky-uppy and spiky. Thick. Chocolate brown to match his eyes. He was a very attractive man, but he was _way_ too old for her. Nine-hundred-and-seven. She wasn't nearly that old. Way too big of an age gap. Remembering Ten's companions in Doctor Who, she figured she was the only one who had figured that out. She didn't love the Doctor that way. He was too much like that one eccentric uncle everyone had to be in love with him. She'd give him a quick kiss on the cheek if he'd done something that made her happy, but she'd do that to her family too.

"What else can we see and do here?"

"Wanna try swimming in an ocean warmed by three suns?"

"Oh heck yeah."

"Then let's get back to the TARDIS, get changed, and go swimming!"

* * *

Heather thought back to when she first met the Doctor as she stripped her normal clothing off and put her bathing suit on.

_It was a dark Thursday afternoon. The rain had been pounding against the roof for ages. Heather had been cooped up, getting a severe case of cabin fever. She was trying to entertain herself, but she could only watch so many hours of _Sherlock_ and _Marvel_ movies before she needed to get out. Her parents didn't want her to go out frolicking in the rain (even though she loved to go out and sing) because they were convinced she'd come down with a cold. She knew that she wouldn't, but her parents seemed to be some level of superstitious._

_ Then the wheezing came. She paused _Captain America: The First Avenger _and stood up from the couch, setting her laptop down on the cushion next to her._

_ The metallic thrumming continued. She looked around, alarmed._

_ Light flashed outside her house on top of a blue box that was pulsing into being. She burst out of her house, standing out in the pouring rain as a man in a long coat and a brown suit. He was tall and skinny. Looking around, confused, his eyes landed on her. "Hello! Can you tell me when I am?" he asked. He was British. Heather scratched her head._

_ "Don't you mean 'where'?" she asked._

_ "No. When. What year is it? This is Earth isn't it? It smells like Earth."_

_ "Yeah. It's Earth. It's two-thousand-fourteen. Is it being Earth an option?"_

_ "It is for me."_

_ "What are you? An alien?" she joked._

_ "Well, yeah," he admitted._

_ "Oh. Okay. An alien."_

The Doctor knocked on the door to her TARDIS bedroom. "HEATHER?! ARE YOU READY?!" he shouted through the wood. The young girl rolled her eyes.

"Almost! One second!" She pulled a sundress over her head, pulled her hair back, and slung some goggles around her neck. She emerged from her room. "How do I look?" she asked sarcastically. The Doctor pressed his lips together. "And don't laugh!"

"Wasn't planning on it. You look fine."

"Cool! Let's go!"

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**End Note: Sorry for being a little harsh earlier, but it's been a while since I wrote this one, and I figured I didn't have much success with this one because of Heather. So I decided to address the problem. I still love all you guys for making me feel special that you took the time to read mine! I just needed to say that!**

**So, my new dream is to write movies and screenplays, so I'm writing one for Doctor Who! I'm having so much fun! Hope everyone else is having a weekend as fun as mine!**

**~Cass**

**PS, if anyone is wondering why my username is so long and hard to say - it's pronounced Cass-oh-dem-bree-ann-kee-uh. And Time Lord names are supposed to be long and hard to say. But I just go by Cass. My title is the Destroyer (I can be a little violent and my friends sort of decided it for me). For anyone a little confused, you can look at the first chapter of my other DW fic "Cass and the Doctor". Have a great week!**

**~Cass**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Yes, yes, yes, I know it's been a while. Sorry about that. I've just been distracted and have had a huge lack of inspiration and ideas for this thing. I tried to make it somewhat funny, but everyone has a different sense of humor. So, without further ado, please enjoy chapter 5!**

* * *

Heather wasn't _planning_ on face-planting the waves. It just sort of happened. And as far as she was concerned, it was all the Doctor's fault. She had been sliding into the ocean with as much grace as she could muster, but he slipped on a piece of seaweed and smacked right into her, sending her tumbling face-first into the water. When she surfaced, soaked and coughing out salt water, she tackled him and shoved him under. He came out spluttering and laughing.

"Doctor?" she asked curiously when their splash war died down, her hair floating around her shoulders in a dark brunette cloud. The Time Lord raised his eyebrows and turned to her.

"Mm?"

"Do you… like pears?"

The brown eyes a few feet from her widened. "_No!"_ he exclaimed passionately. Heather nodded satisfactorily and tried not to smirk. In her head, she heard _"Don't let me eat pears! I _hate_ pears! John Smith is a character I made up, but I won't know that. I'll think I am him and he might do something stupid like eat a pear. In three months, I don't want to wake up from being human and taste _that_!"_ The Doctor was looking at her curiously—no doubt wondering what was making the corners of her mouth turn up in an amused grin—but he decided not to press the matter.

"What about apples?" Again in her head, she heard the Doctor's voice—but not _her_ Doctor's voice—saying, with his mouth full, "_Apples are rubbish! I hate apples!"_

"They're not bad," the Doctor decided. "But, when I regenerate—whenever that is—I might change my mind about both. I might hate apples and love pears. New mouth, new rules." Heather snorted and put her face in the water. "What?"

"Nothing. Just… you said that… while I was in the coma. But it was the you after you were you."

"My next face."

"Yeah. Glad you kept up with that sentence."

"Don't worry. Could've been worse. I've said many a-sentence that got away from me before I finished it."

Heather grinned and shoved him into the violet sea. He went in with a cry of alarm while she nearly burst one of her internal organs laughing so hard. He came up spewing salt water out of his mouth. "You are the funniest man to walk the universe!" she got out between fits of laughter.

"And you're the vilest teenager ever to accompany me!"

"How many teenagers have accompanied you?"

"I don't know. I lost count But you're certainly the worst."

Heather raised one of her eyebrows sarcastically. "Mm-hmm. You're secretly pleased I'm so flippin' amusing."

They swam in the violet waves until the first sun went down. As they rode a couple swells back to shore, nose-less dogs and those bluish creatures scampered around in the deepening twilight. Quickly they made their way back to the TARDIS so they didn't get too cold—well, the Doctor wouldn't get cold, Heather knew that—but _she_ would have gooseflesh crawling up and down her entire body by the time they got back if a single breeze blew.

Both of them showered in their rooms and met back up in the console room. Heather was towel-drying her hair in her pajamas and bathrobe. The Doctor left his hair wet, but he was in his blue suit. "For the record, I've always liked the brown one better," she commented, putting the towel on the console and yanking a hairbrush through her brunette locks.

"That was recorded a long time ago, missy," the Doctor retorted jovially. "Now, you go sleep, and we'll go somewhere fun or interesting in the… morning."

"Like where?"

"I don't know. I'll think about it tonight and decide in the morning. Night night, Heather."

"Good night Doctor." Heather grabbed her towel, turned on her heel, and went back through the TARDIS to her bedroom. Being the slightly lazy teenager she was, she threw the towel on the floor of the bathroom and promised herself she'd put it away properly when she woke up. She flung the bathrobe over her little chair and fell down face-first on her mattress. It was so much more comfortable than the one she had at home. She'd considered asking the Doctor if she could take it home with her when she finally decided to leave. But hopefully that wasn't for a while so she was trying to put it as far from her mind as possible.

After a while of just lying on top of her covers, she got off, turned them down, and climbed in. the sheets were soft and cool. She felt her eyes drifting closed before she even realized exactly how exhausted swimming in an ocean warmed by three suns made her.

She dreamt she was back in the coma world.

_Jack sat next to his sister with a concerned look on his face. The spot where the screwdriver had hit her in the head was still bleeding and it throbbed painfully. "I'm so sorry, H. I thought you'd catch it."_

_ "Almost did," she replied reassuringly. "But you overshot your aim. Don't worry about it. I've felt worse. I'll live."_

_ "That doesn't stop me from feeling terrible."_

_ Heather shrugged and pressed the dish rag harder into the head wound. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me." She stuck her tongue out at him teasingly to make her point that she was fine and he needed to stop being an overbearing mother hen. He didn't seem to get the message because he still looked concerned._

She didn't know how much longer the dream was—that bit was all she remembered—and the next thing she knew, she was waking up. Back into her world with the Doctor.

She waltzed into the console room, all dressed and ready. The Doctor was sitting on his bouncy chair. "So, where to?" she asked.

"Been thinking about this for the past while, and uh… how about the Powell Estate?"

Heather smirked.

* * *

**End Note: Y'all ever had one of those dreams where you can only remember like, one scene, but you knew the tone of the rest? That was the tone of Heather's dream. This was a really rushed chapter, so I'm sorry if it's a little lacking. Please enjoy nonetheless.**

**~Cass**

**PS: Come on guys! Five chapters in and not a single review? If I ask pretty please will someone give one to me? Please? Pretty please? Pretty please with a cherry on top? (Interesting fact about me: it took me almost thirteen years to figure out how to spell "cherry".)**


	6. Chapter 6

They landed a good distance away, in a field where no one would mind the noise the TARDIS made or really pay attention to it materializing from nowhere. Heather pulled on her jacket while the Doctor shrugged into his long coat. The Doctor took her hand like he was her older brother and tugged her out. It was chilly—sometime in February, 2005—and goosebumps sprouted in Heather's hairline. "You know, somewhere on this planet, I'm a little kid right now," she commented. "This is almost ten years ago for me. I was just little. This is weird."

"Well let's hope we don't bump into you," the Doctor joked. "What floor?"

"I think… three. But let's check the tenants list," Heather suggested. Internally she was snickering. The word tenant reminded her of David Tennant, the actor in her dream who played the man currently standing in the cold, mushy snow right next to her, holding her hand. They crossed the road and reached the estate, looking at the buzzers for the apartments. "Look for Tyler. It'll probably say Jackie or Pete or even Rose. I'm not sure." They scanned their fingers over the names.

"Tyler!" the Doctor exclaimed. He pressed the buzzer before Heather could stop him. She facepalmed.

"Yes? Who is it?" a voice asked.

"My name's Heather. Is Rose home?" Heather said before the Doctor could pipe up. He shot her a glare she pointedly ignored.

"Sorry, no one named Rose lives here," the voice replied.

"Oh. Alright. Must have the wrong address. Sorry to bother you!" Heather grabbed the Doctor's wrist in her strong grip and dragged him away. He looked a bit disappointed. She felt really sad to see the puppyish look on his crestfallen face. "I guess my brain just made her up for a TV show," she murmured.

"Yeah. But it never hurts to hope that someone's real."

"Good point." Heather shrugged. "Don't get your hopes up too high though, I guess. That's a rule I learned watching Doctor Who. Because right when everything is fine and dandy, something comes along and burns your hopes to the ground."

A girl with blonde hair and brown eyes went walking by, wrapped up in a purple coat with a pink scarf and a magenta hat. Heather grabbed her arm. "Excuse me, have we met? What's your name?" she asked. She'd learned to be a very good liar.

"I'm Rose. Rose Noble. And I don't think we have. What's yours?"

"Heather. Heather Baker. Sorry to bother you. You just looked like someone I might have gone to school with." The blonde girl looked up at the Doctor.

"And who's this?" she asked. There was a note of recognition in her eye.

"This is my friend the Doctor," Heather answered. She elbowed him in the side to get him to stop staring.

"Doctor what?"

"Just the Doctor," the Doctor answered, sticking out his hand to shake hers. "We're terribly sorry to have bothered you. You ought to go inside to get yourself out of the cold." He smiled his cheerful, childish grin at her, grabbed Heather's wrist, and began to pull her away. Rose Noble waved to them before disappearing inside. Once the two rounded the corner, the Doctor pushed Heather up against the wall. "I thought you said her last name was Tyler!" he hissed.

"It was! In the coma her name was Rose Marion Tyler, she lived in the Powell Estate with her mother Jackie Tyler. She was my favorite companion—Clara and Donna coming in a tie for second. But that was a _dream._ Don't get angry at me because it was a dream," Heather snapped. The Doctor let her wrist go and began striding away. Heather had to jog to keep up. "Doctor, _please_ don't be mad at me."

"I'm not," the Doctor retorted shortly. Black eyebrows arched skeptically on a pale forehead under a head of thick dark brown braided hair.

"Then why do you sound ticked?" Heather asked.

"Because it's cold."

"What is this? A Victorian Romance novel where the temperature reflects your temperament?"

"Sure."

"_Doctor!"_ Heather sped up her walk and stopped in front of him, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes. "Don't you get snippy with me!" she threatened. He looked down on her. She knew he had the power to drop her off back home any time he wanted. But she also knew he wouldn't. He needed her. Her company, her friendship, her _humanity_.

So he scowled. For several long seconds he scowled. She met his gaze evenly and waited, holding her position.

"Fine. I'm fine. I guess my expectations were… different," he remarked.

"Don't worry." She gave him a hug around his skinny form. "I forgive you. As far as I can, I'll always forgive you." His arms wrapped around her shoulders and he rested his chin on the top of her head. She couldn't see it, but there was an actual tear dewing in his eye.

For several moments, they stayed huddled in the cold, just hugging. Since it was winter, hardly anyone else was out to watch and judge them.

Finally, Heather shuddered. The Doctor took her cold hand in his warm one and started to pull her back towards the TARDIS. "Time to go inside before the human gets hypothermia," he remarked facetiously. Heather glared at the back of his spiky hair. He sensed her and turned back to give her a cheeky grin—which she scowled at. "Oh come on. You thought it was funny."

It was. But she wasn't going to give him that satisfaction. Her free hand lifted to her locket and subconsciously popped the magnetic latch with her thumbnail over and over again until they reached the time machine.

"Cocoa?" the Doctor offered. Heather smiled and nodded, figuring it wasn't worth it to be angry for much longer.

"Sure. Why not?"

They made their way down to the kitchen. Heather boosted herself onto the counter and watched as the Doctor rummaged through the cupboards looking for the things to make hot chocolate. Heather was biting the inside of her lip. "Marshmallow?"

"No thanks. They always melt in mine. How about whipped cream?"

"Sounds good."

The Doctor could tell Heather had something on her mind, but he kept his silence until she was ready to ask him whatever it was she was thinking. While the cocoa heated up, she swung her legs back and forth while gathering her thoughts and courage. "Are you the last Time Lord?" she finally asked. The Doctor turned to look at her. She started talking really fast. "I mean, was there a war between your people and the Daleks? Is Gallifrey still standing? Because in the TV show you were the last Time Lord and then you weren't and then you were again and then there were complications and there was a 'Time War' between the Time Lords and the Daleks and you had to save the universe and—" She halted mid-sentence and ducked her head. The microwave beeped and the Doctor took the mugs out. He passed one to Heather and kept the other for himself.

"No. Gallifrey didn't fall. There was no Time War. I don't even know what that means."

"Can we… go? See Gallifrey?"

The Doctor took a sip of his cocoa. "I don't see why not."

* * *

**End Note: After eight hundred years of writing and my helmic regulator breaking, this has come _very_ late. I apologize. To the guest who was kind enough to leave me a very long review: Thank you for all the advice. But here's the real reason this story doesn't get very many reviews: _I don't update it very often_. I lose my muse for this one so quickly that I hardly ever write it. So I understand your counsel, but there are other besides the ones you think about it. I'm not meaning to be rude, I'm just telling you what I think. I literally just finished this chapter after writing it for what feels like (and probably has been) months. To everyone else: THANKS FOR READING! HOPE THIS HAS BEEN OKAY!**

**~Cass**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: I know this is up soon. But I knew that if I didn't put it up now, I'd forget completely. Hope you like!**

* * *

Heather stared at herself in the mirror while the Doctor laughed. She narrowed her eyes. "This is not even _remotely_ funny!" she exclaimed. "I look like an _idiot!"_

"No. You look like a Time Lady," the Doctor retorted, trying to sound consoling through his amusement—and failing. Heather uncomfortably tugged at the weird robes and shifted the freaking weird shoulder thing so it wasn't falling off. The Doctor was doing his best to stifle his snickers, but wasn't quite making it.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered. "Where did you even get a set of women's clothes?"

"I just sort of pick up clothes from places. Like this top," he remarked, pointing to a red top with gold decorations and stuff. "Casanova gave it to me." Heather tried not to snort at the irony in that and went back to trying to get the shoes on. The boots laced up to her knees and had three-inch heels. The Doctor knelt and helped her with the long ropes that made up the laces. "Here. It's easier if you do it like this," he offered. She watched carefully and replicated it on the opposite foot. After the double-knot he did up the ties on the back of the robes—which she wore over her normal clothes. He turned her around. "There. You look beautiful."

"I feel absurd," she countered.

"Yeah, but I imagine a young Time Lord or two will look your way when we get to Gallifrey." He patted her shoulder. "Go get some rest. We'll be there in a couple of hours. You'll want your energy."

Heather walked gingerly through the TARDIS from the wardrobe room to her bedroom and fell on top of the bed—shoulder-thing knocking the back of her skull. She closed her eyes and…

"Heather!" the Doctor was calling, knocking on her door like machine gun fire. "Time to go! We're here!" She groaned and staggered back to her feet. It had been one of those naps where she had blinked and was waking up—feeling like she hadn't gotten any rest at all. Carefully, so she didn't trip on her high heels, she made her way to the door and opened it. Promptly she froze.

The Doctor was wearing Time Lord robes too—looking much more elegant and powerful than she did. His tall, slim form made the rich fabric flow better than they did on her much shorter body. "Wow. You look… like a Time Lord," she commented. He smiled at her.

"Thank you," he replied, offering her his arm. "Shall we?"

She took his elbow—more for support and balance than anything else—and let him lead her to, and out, the front door.

Gallifrey was beautiful. Red grass, burnt orange sky, silver trees, snow-capped mountains, and the massive citadel—the one she thought was called Arcadia. The biggest, most powerful city on the planet. It took her breath away. She remembered the Doctor telling her about it in vivid detail—almost verbatim to the words he used for Martha in season 3's episode _Gridlock_. "Oh my gosh. This is _amazing_! It's exactly how you described it," she breathed. He grinned, putting his tongue on the roof of his mouth, and led her across the field of scarlet towards the glass-encased metropolis.

"Tread lightly. The others will know you're not from here, but they probably won't do anything about it," the Doctor cautioned. Heather's hand reached up and stroked the chain of her locket thoughtfully.

"Okay. Let's do this."

They strolled leisurely through the meadow until they reached the citadel. "Welcome to Arcadia," the Doctor said.

"How old is he?" Heather whispered, nodding discreetly at a young-looking Time Lord in a similar outfit to the ones she and the Doctor were in. The Doctor cast his gaze over at the other Time Lord and glanced him up and down. He snorted and looked down at her.

"Too old for you," he retorted. "_But_… he is staring. And he's not staring at me."

"Don't tease," Heather scolded playfully.

"Dare you to go talk to him," the Doctor challenged. Heather raised her eyebrows.

"Why?"

"Because we're on an adventure." He winked cheekily at her.

With a sigh, Heather detached herself from his arm and approached the young-looking Time Lord and smiled. "Hello," she greeted. The ice blue eyes travelled up and down her body before he snorted. Her eyebrows lifted again. "Something funny?"

"The Doctor's outdone himself this time. Bringing a human to Arcadia. The nerve." He scoffed sarcastically. One of Heather's eyebrows lowered, leaving one arched.

"What's your name then? Or your title or whatever," she asked, pouring a bit of sarcasm into her tone. "It's not the Insulter or something right? Because that's how you're coming off and I don't think that's a very good way to make a good first impression. And no matter what they say, first impressions are more important than they think. So let's try again. Hello. My name is Heather. Yes, I'm a human. Yes I'm in Arcadia with the Doctor. I'm only here because I begged him to bring me. So if you think it's his fault you can back up and think again."

"You're a fiery one aren't you?"

Heather nodded. "Yup."

"Is that a human thing?"

"Not uniquely. I've met loads of other aliens who are sassier than I am. Like the Doctor, for instance."

The Time Lord smirked in amusement. "You have a point there."

"You know, you didn't answer my question. What's your name? Or your title. Whichever you'd prefer to go by."

"You can call me the Engineer if you want."

"Nice to meet you, Engineer. I'm Heather," she repeated. Before she could say anything else, the Engineer took her by her elbow and gently led her a few feet farther away to get out of the Doctor's earshot. Slowly he leaned down until his lips were only a few inches from her ear.

"What's your relationship with the Doctor?" he asked.

"We're just friends. We were both lonely and just sort of managed to… find each other. After he randomly turned up outside my house in the middle of a storm, that is." She smirked as a thought popped into her head. "Why? You jealous?" she teased. She had never considered herself very good at flirting, but this was going better than she'd hoped—heck, she didn't even know if it _counted_ as flirting. The Engineer pulled back, affronted, shaking his head vigorously.

"No!" he objected. He dropped his voice back to a quieter level. "I'm just saying that he's dangerous and you need to be careful. Not everyone who's travelled with him has survived."

Heather smiled sympathetically. "I understand that. But I made my choice. And it's our choices that make us what we are, is it not?"

The Engineer put his tongue between his teeth in a thoughtful expression. He stared at her for several long moments while he tried to reorganize his thoughts. "Tell the Doctor you'll meet up with him at his TARDIS in two hours. I want to take you out to lunch—if you wouldn't mind."

Heather smiled. "Not at all."


End file.
